Under veiled disguises
by Marie-Fairbotham
Summary: The year is 2009, the 500th anniversary of Henry VIII's reign, so what happens when the members of his court and himself are reincarnated into the 21st century? AU
1. Chapter 1

"So remind me again why I'm being dragged to this" Anya sighed as she threw the newspaper onto Sophie's desk that was already littered with several different other broadsheets, each reporting the same story with the same brooding portrait of the recently crowned King of England. Sophie peered from behind her black rimmed glasses, another of Anya's strops was not what she needed right now, her report on Royal affairs was due in less than two hours and her boss had already lined up her next grand assignment.

"Anya, I invited you because you're my friend and I want to have at least one conversation with a sane person while I'm there"

"What do you mean sane person?"

"Come on, these folk must have a screw loose, people with money always do; Lindsey Lohan, Paris Hilton, it's the ones that are born into a fortune that are the worst. Look, I have to get this finished so can we discuss this later?"

Anya didn't answer her disgruntled friend but instead collected another newspaper into her arm and left the study, feeling the air of tension lift from her shoulders. As Anya left her busy companion she could not help but skim the headline once more: PRINCE CHARMING TO MARRY. It was like a fairytale, young Prince Richard, charismatic and handsome succeeds the throne after the death of both his father and brother and decides, although some speculate his superiors had a hand in it, to hold a "great ball" in which he is to chose his future Queen. A great feat when the new King is but merely a man, just 23 years old with a country to his name, such power can lead to great downfalls yet many have put faith in the boy, some have gone as far as to say that he is the mark of a new dynasty of English Royals, an Obama for England as it were. Anya sighed, how much hope could really be put on one man? It was one of the questions she was sure Sophie would bring up for; low and behold she had received two exclusive tickets to the event as the new Royal reporter for The Times even though she loathed tradition and such occasions with a great tenacity. Anya however, not admitting it to her companion, was actually looking forward to the event. The party would last for a weekend and from spending most of her life in France with her mother she had missed out on Royal gossip, it would be an adventure to say the least for it indeed called for a new outfit or two.

"Both the Princesses of Jordan and Denmark accept graciously your invitations and several seamstresses have been sent to both countries"

"mmm" Richard replied, too lost in another article about himself and the hype circulating about his search for a bride. For Richard, marriage wasn't his main agenda; it was creating a stable country of trade and diversity in which harmony would prosper in a world where discord reigned supreme. It had been his mother's idea for such an event, a connection with another state would secure their chances of an alliance and time and again she reminded him that and heir was another important factor to a successful reign.

"Are you listening to me Richard?"

"Not really mother but when do I ever listen to you?" his sarcasm did not bode well with her and Mary sighed in response.

"Come now, this is important" she continued anyway, regardless whether or not Richard was really paying attention to her "Now, the invitations all remind guests that in light of Henry VIII's 500 year anniversary the theme is based upon the Tudors and therefore Tudor costume must be worn at all time throughout the weekend. A seamstress has been sent to each of the 6 princesses who will be dressed in white and shall be asked to wear veils..."

"Veils? Thats absurd! How shall I see their faces?"

"Natasha believes you shall simply know in your heart who is your true bride and when you have chosen you shall make this clear by pronouncing her as Katherine"

"Why Katherine?"

"Because she was the true wife of King Henry and you my dear represent everything that the young, ambitious Henry was!"

"Henry had 6 wives if you have forgotten mother and I am nothing like that man, I do not wish to be associated with such a monster"

"Nonsense it's a little bit of renaissance fun, it adds some theatre to the event"

"Alright, alright, I give up, so long as I can invite whom I wish?"

"Please don't tell me you wish that Thomas fellow to be there, honestly, I swear that boy has slept with every hooker in London"

"Not every hooker mother, only a select few." Richard chuckled; he could stand no more of his mother's witling and so kissed her hand and left with his servants chasing after him. It was not long before Mary was in the presence of another.

"Natasha, thank heavens" Mary remarked, taking the withered lady's hands into her own. Much conspiracy lied with Natasha. It was known by many that she was a confident of the King's mother yet none seem to know why. She had been picked from obscurity in Russia and not many knew of her background though several made up their own theories, claiming her blood line linked with that of Rasputin, however, only the members of the Royal court knew of her and the tabloids had yet to latch onto anything sinister or supernatural about the old mystic.

"How was Demark?" Mary enquired, seating herself upon a nearby chaise lounge though her tension could be spied in the drumming of her fingers.

"The Princess is as we suspected"

"Then, it is likely Richard will choose her?"

"If belief in the tale is correct then yes Ma'm, Princess Louisa will the Future Queen of England. However, the King may surprise us all and choose instead the Lady Amelia."

"Perhaps" sighed Mary "But it all depends on whether your visions are correct."

"I am never wrong your majesty"

Since Natasha had first come to England it had been her visions that had secured her place by the former Queen's side. It had been during the previous King's visit to Russia that the two trustees had meet when a bare footed Natasha had collapsed at the Queen's feet proclaiming that her Husband and first born would soon leave her side. At first Mary chided her, believing the prophecy to be no more than the ramblings of an old woman. But after that fateful day on December the 6th when an assassin took their lives the Queen at once, for her own comfort had the woman escorted to the palace of luxury and from that day requested a reading every week. It had been on Natasha's first encounter with Richard that she had realised he was an extraordinary boy, for not only was his heart pure but the spirit of a former King slept within him. This man was a reincarnate of another and if directed on the right path would bring about a great revolution of freedom and beauty, something that the dormant spirit had once aspired to but instead had become corrupted and tyrannical, turning brother against brother. Natasha at once admitted her beliefs to the Queen and the hunt began for the perfect match. If Richard was Henry VIII he needed his Katherine or Jane by his side, a suitable wife who would not only bear his children but aid him in his quest to nurture the country into such a reformation. Natasha had searched high and low before eventually finding the two candidates, Jane's modest behaviour oozed from the Princess of Denmark while Katherine's unyielding faith was apparent in the Lady Amelia. Both ladies had been found, both were attending the ball and to prove Natasha's theory both had been instructed to wear veils, after all if the King was meant to be with either woman, surely a veil would not hide his eyes from the truth. So the plot and preparations had begun, now all they had to do was wait.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Ok Guys I am so so sorry that it has taken me so long to get round to actually adding to both "under Veiled disguise" and "Lost in the Tudors" I have been extremely busy but to make it up to you all I have two chapters to add today to Veiled disguise and another will be added to Lost in the Tudors soon. I would like to thank all who have reviewed/favourited/messaged; it makes my day that you enjoy my ideas **__****__** anyways onto the story and please continue to review, it keeps me on track and if I don't update for a while nag me, it always helps **__****___

_**-------------------**_

"I feel ridiculous"

"If I have to wear one so do you!" Sophie called from the dressing room next door.

"But come on, they could have chosen any theme, why this one?"

"Because...I don't know, because they are royalty and like being awkward."

"I'm trying on a different one, this French hood makes me look 90" Anya hollered, huffing out of her dressing room with a pink flannel robe wrapped around her corseted figure. With the predicament of having to transform her wardrobe 500 years in the past she had come across the number of an old friend of hers who helped create the gowns for many of the costume dramas seen on TV. After much begging she had agreed to help the friends out so on a typical Wednesday afternoon both Anya and Sophie had submerged themselves in a walk in wardrobe of Tudor attire. As Anya scanned the rail she could not help but feel slightly at home in her corset, although the boning caused her breath to be shallow she seemed all too familiar with the pain and etiquette. It was then that the perfect dress jumped out at her. Hiding between two ghastly orange numbers Anya pulled out a damask gown of red that unlike the other gowns had no stupid frills or details. It was exactly what she was looking for and as she returned to her room to try it on she was amazed at how natural it seemed to wear the dress. As Sophie called over for her to come out Anya took a deep breath in and revealed herself to a rather surprised Sophie.

"It seems Tudor tailoring suits you...you look stunning"

"Indeed she does" replied Anya's friend who had been helping the pair in picking the perfect gowns.

"Do you think I should wear a French hood or something like that?"

"Not at all, just wear your hair loose, you already have locks to die for" Anya didn't argue the compliment, her hair had always been her favourite feature even if as a child she had been remarked as the "raven haired rascal"

"Which programme is this from?" Anya enquired, smoothing the material of the bodice.

"That dress was worn by Natalie Dormer in the Tudors"

"You mean this dress has been felt up by Jonathan Rhys Meyers? Fantastic!" it was common knowledge by many of Anya's friends that the Parisian had a certain fancy for the suave JRM so much so that most nights she would dream of the actor in his Tudor costume serenading her with songs upon his lute or being involved in some of the scenes portrayed in the series however occasionally the dreams would change and involve scenes that she had never witnessed upon her TV screen before yet they seemed so real, so vivid that if Anya reached further enough she could feel the heat of a nearby flame tickling her fingers.

It didn't take long for the fateful weekend to approach and soon enough the bags were packed, the mobiles discarded and the corsets laced. Due to the nature of the event guests were advised to travel by train and be escorted by horse and cart as parking spaces would not be available which Anya scoffed at, remarking that they were taking the theme far too seriously.

The journey to London was spent mostly in silence with both Anya and Sophie finding solace in the countryside that passed their train windows. Both had had little sleep and so conversation was kept to a minimum.

"Y'know what I don't understand" Sophie finally remarked as the train pulled out of York and began to gather speed "Why is this event being held at Hampton? I mean Hever would have been perfect for such an event, those beautiful gardens and the history! Imagine spotting Anne Boleyn's headless ghost!" No reply was given except a small shrug which resulted in the conversation drying out. Anya's night had been one of nightmares; her thoughts had been twisted into ghastly images of torment and solitude that felt so real...so vivid that she swore once in her lifetime she must have felt such agony. Like an iron vice the darkened dreams stayed with her as morning broke and dwelled upon her mind till finally the train pulled in to Kings Cross and marked the beginning of a long weekend.

After collecting the duo's bags and tracking down the exit, the two soon found their mode of transport to Hampton; the driver greeted them warmly and provided champagne before setting off on the remainder of their journey. By carriage the sights of London were easy to spot and Anya began to forget about the previous night and indulged in marvelling at the sights that Sophie was pointing out to her. It wasn't long before the coach had parked at the entrance of Hampton and as the coach men unloaded the girls belongings the two made their way to security where they registered their names and received the directions to their lodgings for the night. Both had been placed in separate rooms and allocated half an hour to each other to settle, dress and prepare for the evening ahead. It only took Anya 15 minutes to throw open her bags and wriggle into the corseted dress she had chosen only a week before, she had refused to eat during the tedious journey which had caused her stomach to grumble loudly in resistance. Collecting the necessary items for the evening she left her room in the same unorganised flurry she had entered it, avoiding the packeted information that had been handed to her upon her arrival.

"Sophie? Sophie are you there?" No answer came as Anya continued to pummel the oak door with her fist. "Sophie come on I'm starving will you hurry up?"

"Do you always have to be so impatient" a voice finally came, slightly muffled by the hefty oak door "I'm trying to work out these dance moves we've been given, and have you even read the different rules on etiquette for this evening?" Anya refused to listen as Sophie's voice still reverberated from the door, her only thoughts were upon food not some ridiculous rules that had been conjured up to be broken. With a burdened sigh she moved from the door and began to pace the open corridor, back and forth till a murmur ceased her steps. At first the sound was weak and hollow but grew into a recognisable resonance. Someone nearby was weeping. Intrigued with boredom Anya followed the noise to a small enclave encapsulated by shadow where torchlight barely skimmed the darkened patch, yet even with the lack of illumination it was clear that the noise came from a young child. The infant had hunched herself into the small space, wrapping her arms viciously around her covered legs so that her only distinguishing feature was her fiery red hair which seemed to attract the only available light. Anya stopped for a moment and stared at the young girl whose sobs seemed to grow in volume, the girl was obviously in distress yet there was something about her that caused Anya's heart to feel a twinge of sorrow, as though the child was close to her in some way.

"Are you alright?" Anya whispered, kneeling to the girl's height.

"Mother, I want my mother"

"You mother?" she repeated "Well maybe I can help you find her I'm sure she's round here somewhere" Anya's words of comfort however only seemed to cause more distress.

"Please...please don't cry." Without thought she reached out and gently smoothed the females auburn hair which seemed to stifle the unending sobs, slowly the girl came out of her self-made shell and lifted her head to view her companion but as her eyes focused on Anya's they at once brightened, the swollen red circles below her eyes vanished and a smile instead embraced her lips.

"Mother?"

"Mother? I'm not your mother?"

"Mother!" Before Anya could back away the young girl had sprung upon her gripping her tightly between her youthful arms. "Do not leave me ever again! Nan said I would never see you again"

"Nan? No...no I'm not your mother!" Anya protested as she tried to remove the girl from her shoulders but as the infant continued to snuggle against her wave after wave of forgotten memories surged from Anya's subconscious. The pains of child birth, the disappointment of a daughter followed by the overwhelming joy of receiving unconditional love from one so small. It suddenly felt right to have the child in her arms and before she could stop herself tears of her own began to fall upon the child's Tudor costume.

"I'm sorry" she whispered, stroking Elizabeth's red hair "I will never leave you again"

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Anya?"

She was gone. The enclave was empty and the hand upon her shoulder belonged to Sophie.

"Where did she go?" Anya whispered, sensing the space between her outstretched hands.

"Where did who go?"

"The little girl, she...she was right here and now she's gone"

"Is the lack of light playing tricks on your mind Anya?"

"No I swear..."

"Come on, we're running late" Sophie was in no time for dallying, as much as she wanted to hear her friends explanation for the tears in her eyes and her grovelling stance upon the floor she had business to attend to and therefore empathy was not on the cards. Instead she helped her up, complimented her dress choice and dragged Anya along to what would be the biggest turning point in the duos lives.


	3. Chapter 3

"It's 7 o'clock where the devil is that boy!"

Mary's patience was wearing thin. The festivities hadn't even begun and yet already the main attraction was missing. After searching for half an hour she came to the conclusion that her son was probably residing with his old friend and therefore made the journey towards his chambers. Mary's hand hesitated before knocking, Thomas was everything that repulsed her about men and it had been her high hopes for him not to be invited for she knew his influences could cause Richard to change his mind. Taking a deep breath she tapped her gloved knuckles against the oak door.

At first no answer came and the old Queen was about to depart when suddenly the door burst open and out ran a young woman slightly dishevelled, clutching her garments in bundles in her arms. Mary couldn't believe her eyes, what sort of monstrosity had occurred to cause the woman such distress and then it dawned upon her as out of the darkness came a rather smug faced Thomas whose dignity was only covered by a bathing towel.

"Your majesty I must applaud you on your selection of guests for this weekend, they are indeed a rare breed"

"How dare you! Mark my words sir, if my son did not set you so high I would have your guts for garters" Mary did not stay to hear the snigger that left Thomas' lips. This was all a game to him for the world was his oyster and the women upon it were merely for his pleasure. After witnessing a rather heated Mary leave his sight Thomas returned to his chambers. Entering the sitting room he gathered himself by a liquor cabinet and poured two glasses of fine whiskey, something to calm the nerves.

"You can't stay in here forever y'know" Thomas remarked, finding his high school friend hunched over in a nearby armchair, his fingers gripped to each strand of hair upon his head. Seeing his friend's distress Thomas patted him on the back and handed him the amber liquid.

"Thank you" Richard replied, gulping the drink down so all that remained was the small fiery heat that the liquor had left in the back of his throat. "I'd rather be in here than out there"

"Why are you doing this to yourself, you obviously don't want to get married. Just blow the whole thing off and come with me to Ibiza for a few weeks, let off some steam"

"You make it sound so easy Thomas, and I honestly wish it was that simple" Richard replied for in his head he had replayed escape after escape, plan after plan yet none had transpired. He was trapped by his inability to decide and now he was giving up his heart for the happiness of his mother and the security of his country but was it really all worth it? Richard could not be 100% sure but he never went against his word so leaving the sanctuary of his companion's room he returned to his own and began to prepare for the evening ahead.

***

"So, do you think there'll be any eligible bachelors among this lot?" Sophie queried as she tugged her friend into the grand ballroom. Both females could not believe their eyes at the extravagance of the interior, the lavish decorations or the numerous bodies that were already upon the dance floor.

"Come on Anya, why the long face, you were the one who was all excited about coming here"

"I know it's just...something about this place, I can't put my finger on it. It's as though I have been here so many times that I could easily call Hampton my home and yet I've never been here before in my life"

"Everyone gets déjà vu from time to time, it's probably nothing. Right, the press conference with his majesty is commencing in a few minutes so I'm going to head over to the red room, will you be alright here on your own?"

Anya nodded, too burdened with thought to notice her friend disappear from her side. The past few days leading up to the occasion felt like a crescendo to an unknown climax. The night before anya had gathered little sleep after several frightening images had sprung to her mind but in reaching Hampton she took it upon herself to lighten her mood and enjoy the festivities as best she could but that was before the incident in the corridor. The little auburn haired girl had felt so real in her arms, she could still smell the rose water upon her skin and although Anya had convinced herself the event was mere imagination she could not find the reason for the great yearning she had in the bowels of her stomach for the child to be safe in her arms once more.

An hour passed till Sophie finally returned with an expression of exhaustion painted upon it, Anya however had found great satisfaction in the buffet provided and had spent the hour gorging herself with Tudor delicacies.

"So how was it?" Anya questioned as Sophie collapsed in a chair beside her.

"Honestly, that man!"

"What man?"

"Richard, _his majesty_, heavens knows why he's getting married. It is so obvious he is being forced into this"

"How?"

"Well for one his mother and his advisor did most of the talking and secondly just the look in his eyes, he may have come across as charming and charismatic, but underneath his facade he was a bumbling wreck. I have to hand it to him he's a bloody good actor."

As Anya was about to respond her words were cut off as a high pitched trumpet melody pierced the constant chatter of the party attendants leaving a silence that could have been cut with a knife. In they gracefully marched one right after another, their flowing veils hiding their innocent faces as each took their organised place. Anya and Sophie at once left their seats and hurried with the crowd to watch history be made. The women made two lines of three facing each other, their heads bowed as though in prayer. Anya tried to hide a slight snigger, not being able to take the theatrics of the occasion seriously. It was then the turn of the Queen mother to enter who, escorted by her ladies took her position upon a slightly raised platform and as the crowd acknowledged her with both curtsies and bows she addressed her people.

"Good people of England and the rest of the World. Tonight is the 500 year anniversary of the accession of his majesty, King Henry VIII, without him the world we perceive today would be drastically changed. In honour and in light of this, my son has bequeathed that he too will make history upon this day by choosing his wife and future Queen of England. The women before you now are those whose titles and qualities make them perfect candidates to honour the role of Queen and adhere to expectations. My loyal subjects I would now like to present my son and the King of England"

Like a Mexican wave the audience fell to their knees as the man they had waited for arrived dressed in Tudor glory. Anya's eyes stayed transfixed on the floor beneath her feet, afraid to look at the King directly in the eyes as though it were a cardinal sin yet this did not stop her heart from beating ferociously in her chest. Followed by Lord Thomas and Lord George Richard approached his mother's side and gently kissed her soft cheek, the admiration for his mother could not be questioned yet little noticed the slight tremor in his hand as he wiped away the first few beads of sweat.

"My Lords and ladies, I come here today to..." his words stopped.

"Whats the matter with him?" Sophie hoarsely whispered to her companion, gently elbowing her in the side but she received no response.

"Anya?" in that split second Sophie realised at once why Richard had ceased to speak, for his eyes had become transfixed on Anya's. Slowly, the young King began to leave his platform and approach the two friends. The Queen of course seemed outraged while the fair maidens in white lifted their veils in disgust as each were simply shrugged off as the King passed and eventually made it to Anya, whose eyes were still encapsulated by his. The room stayed completely still.

"Your majesty, this is" but before she could introduce her friend the King answered her.

"Anne Boleyn, yes, I already know who she is" the silence erupted into a score of whispers as each wondered what this meant, was this commoner now in line to be Queen? Or by calling her Anne had he noted her as his mistress?

The young Anya blushed and at once the King's hand was upon her cheek as though eager to feel whether it were warm to the touch.

"Dance with me" he requested, beckoning the sweet Anya with his hand.

***

"No!" Natasha sat up, her palms clammy with perspiration. Something had gone wrong, she could sense it. The King, had he chosen incorrectly? She had to reach Hampton, and fast.

***

Taking Richard's hand, Anya allowed herself to be escorted across the wooden beams of the grand hall. Even though the fluctuating levels of whispering caused her to somewhat doubt whether her actions were really to court standard she remained calm, she was a newbie to all this and seen as the King himself had plucked her from the crowd she did not dare to argue, yet why did he call her Anne? Out of every name he could have chosen it was Anne that had come to him and at such a crucial point, was he trying to gesture something? Anya couldn't be sure as she took her place opposite him and hoped that she didn't cock everything up.

And so it began, the music softly filtered through the crowded hall and the couples on the floor began to dance. Although Anya had been nervous this feeling left her almost immediately as her feet seemed to lead the rest of her body, as though she had performed such a dance on numerous occasions. Richard could not take his eyes off her, as though he was bewitched by her beauty and as her raven hair swept past him he inhaled the past in a single scent of lavender. Back his mind went to a time which he had almost forgotten smeared with lost memories that had altered him. There he was, as though it was yesterday, dancing the same dance with the same ebony beauty.

"Anne" he whispered, taking her graceful hand and spinning her with ease. Those emotions he had lost returned like a wave crashing against a weathered shore causing his heart to surge with love, lust and passion.

Anya could see it too, she saw herself in her tudor costume laughing merrily as those around her joined in while his majesty took her hand and spun her upon the spot causing the crowd before them to become a blur and the sound of merriment transposed to howls of anger and sorrow. The room stopped spinning and Anya felt as though the hand upon hers had vanished. She was no longer in Hampton court but in a courtyard, facing a series of wooden steps leading to the gallows.

Richard's picture too had changed for now he was perched upon the Thames with another lady beside him, her hair was fair but her features were simple and he did not feel his heart stir like it did when Anya first entered his eye line.

"Where is she? Where is Anya?" he asked, but the girl did not respond. Instead she remained seated with her lips tightly shut. This had to be a nightmare he thought as his gaze scanned the familiar river and at once he remembered. He saw the parchment upon his desk and watched with unblinking horror as his own hand signed the death warrant. He now knew who she truly was. He now knew who he was, the man he had forgotten centuries ago. His tyrant heart still pumped ferociously and he recalled the bitter sweet relief that seemed to come from signing such papers. But what satisfaction was really gained from Anne's death, he gained a son indeed, but a son that lasted as long as his mother. Richard shook his head, was this really happening? Or was this simply his imagination; although his mind was elsewhere were Anya and his body still entwined in dance?

The music had ceased for 5 minutes yet still they danced, their eyes like hollows, staring aimlessly into space as their feet danced in synchronised unison. No one spoke. No-one dared to utter a word for each was too engrossed in the performance. The Queen mother watched on with concern and remembered the words of her soothsayer. Perhaps this strange occurrence was due to what had been revealed.

"I have to get in" Natasha pleaded as the guards continued to shake their heads.

"Sorry ma'am, no pass no entry"

"Don't you understand, this is a matter of urgency, I have to get in there!"

"Look lady we are under strict orders, you're not getting in here"

It seemed Natasha had got the picture as she slowly stepped back from the doors, raising her hands in defeat and the bouncers seemed to believe that she would cause no more bother for the rest of the night. But what they had not realised is that from the corner of Natasha's eye a window of opportunity had been opened...

"This can't be real" Anya whispered to herself as her feet began to tread the steps of the gallows. Yet everything around her seemed so real...so vivid. The calls of the crowd, the spots of rain upon her flushed cheeks...this could not be a dream, it had to be some twisted reality. As she reached the gallows she shuffled through the hay to the front of the wooden decking and witnessed the crowd fall silent around her and then it came. The rehearsed speech that seemed to naturally flow from her lips even though her mind had not conjured up such words, it was though someone else controlled her actions, yet recalling past memories she saw herself, trapped, as she recited again and again her last speech before death. She remembered everything now, her father and brother, her days at court, her days as Queen and finally her days in confinement. Slowly but surely the words from her lips became her own, laced with true emotion and expression. She no longer felt dominated for it was as though by recalling such times she had gained the use of her body once more, she knew who she was. She was Anne, Queen of England, daughter of Thomas and Elizabeth Boleyn.

Richard's world began to change once more. This time he was a member of the crowd, a bystander as a woman with ebony locks graced the gallows. His raven haired beauty. Her face was not tarnished with tears but strong and unblemished by pain and sorrow. Instead of admitting her crimes she held her ground and pleaded innocence before finally kneeling into the harsh stalks of corn and muttering her last psalm. The executioner took up his sword.

"NO!" Richard screamed, but no sound left his lips, with all his might he tried to move from his standing spot but nothing would budge his feet that seemed to have been cemented to the floor. He couldn't even turn away as the sword swung back and with a single blow...

He was back in Hampton, back in the same grand hall with his Raven haired beauty...unconscious in his arms. No longer did chords of music aid his steps for only a piercing cry could be heard that grew louder as his consciousness became more aware of his surroundings till finally he realised it was his own voice that caused such an uproar. He fell to his knees, shaking her gently but Anya did not stir, she remained silent and still as though dead.

"Let me through! Let me through" screamed Natasha, after successfully crawling through the open window, to little to late it seemed as the crowd parted and allowed her to see the crumpled King sobbing over the raven beauty. Her plan had failed, he had not chosen the princesses she had handpicked but this young beauty whose life now hung in the balance for some strange reason, but as she approached she sensed the passionate, colourful lifestyle of the young woman and at once knew the spirit that was encapsulated in her body.

"Richard" she whispered, coming to his side. "What did you see, what did you witness?"

He did not answer but simply shook his head.

"I have to know if I am to help!"

"Look what I've done to her! I was a monster...a tyrant and I always will be, I will always hurt the ones I love and for what purpose?"

"Your majesty please.."

"I saw who I am, who I was and I saw who she was and what I did to her..." the tears overwhelmed him once more.

"She still breathes" Natasha soothed, noticing the rise and fall of her chest. "She only sleeps but she needs rest, and so do you." As she called upon those around her to aid in the removal of Anya, Richard stopped her.

"I will take her" he whispered, rising from his feet with Anya's body scooped delicately in his arms. The room remained silent as the King exited with the small grey haired woman that followed behind him.

"I promise you now" He whispered as he stroked back the locks of black "I will not desert you, I will keep you safe, I will marry you once more and our love will repair the damage that caused so much bloodshed many centuries ago"

"Your majesty..."

"I will return tomorrow" Richard repeated as he left a single kiss upon the sleeping Anya's forehead, finding some comfort that she stirred in response. He had found his soul mate through the sands of time and he was not about to lose her again.

"Natasha, I want you to stay by her side tonight, make sure she is well looked after."

"I will your majesty" remaining bowed Natasha's eyes followed the King as he left for his own bedchambers, no doubt to rest and speculate on the past events of the evening.

"Guard" Natasha hollered causing the nearest to respond with a simple nod.

"I want the girl and any companions she may keep to be removed by dawn tomorrow. The future of a Kingdom depends on it."


End file.
